


I Hate Every Bone In Your Body (But Mine)

by badpriestess



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badpriestess/pseuds/badpriestess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the way he'd hoped to get his hands around Barnaby's neck, but Yuri makes the most of it.  Strictly PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate Every Bone In Your Body (But Mine)

It comes as absolutely no surprise that Barnaby is demanding in bed.  Tentative people, after all, do not accost you as you leave the criminally tedious Hero Banquet and tell you that they want you to fuck them.  Tentative people do not bring you to their sparsely furnished apartments and start pulling your clothes off as soon as the door closes.

No, Barnaby is not tentative.

Neither, for that matter, is Yuri; he clenches his hand in Barnaby’s damp hair and yanks his head back, sinking his teeth into the crook of his neck.  Barnaby gasps, then pushes Yuri back, snapping, “No obvious marks.  I wouldn’t think I’d have to tell _you_ —“

Yuri kisses him roughly, hopefully hard enough to hurt.  He sucks Barnaby’s lower lip between his teeth, swallows the other man’s moan.  He pulls back and shoves Barnaby down, digs his nails into his shoulders; Barnaby bucks his hips up even as he hisses softly at the pain.

“You like it rough,” Yuri observes, and smirks when Barnaby’s face reddens.  His glasses are off, tossed carelessly in the general direction of the end table, and the green of his eyes is more vivid than ever against his flushed skin.

“Such piercing insight,” Barnaby retorts.  “I’m amazed.  You should’ve been a detective.”

“And I’d say you should’ve been a comedian,” Yuri says, then pauses to draw his tongue along Barnaby’s breastbone.  He closes his lips over one of Barnaby’s nipples and sucks hard; the blond keens, arching his back.  The plaintive sound goes straight to Yuri’s cock.

“…But comedians are actually funny,” Yuri finishes the thought, and bites.  

“ _Haa_ ,” Barnaby gasps, and writhes under Yuri, who teases him with his lips, tongue, and teeth in alternation, moving steadily lower.  Barnaby fists his hands in Yuri’s hair — the gall of him — and tries to urge him toward his already leaking cock.

“Do you mind?” Yuri demands, lifting his head to glare at Barnaby, who returns the expression with hazy eyes. 

“Do _you?_ ” Barnaby pants, and tugs briefly on Yuri’s hair.  Unbelievable.  Yuri growls, wrests Barnaby’s hands away, and grabs the man’s hips hard enough to bruise.  Barnaby makes a choking sound like the beginning of a scream as Yuri swallows him whole.  Yuri tightens his already vice-like grip on Barnaby’s hips, refusing to let him shift at all as he works over his cock.  He licks broadly along the underside, sucks the tip into his mouth, and flicks the edge of his tongue against the slit.  Barnaby gasps and curses, twisting his head violently from one side to the other, and keeps a white-knuckled grip on the sheets.  Yuri slips the head of Barnaby’s cock from between his lips with a small _pop_ and takes it in his hand instead.  Barnaby shudders and moans with each rough, slow stroke.

It’s gratifying to see the arrogant hero like this, reduced to a writhing nerve ending under Yuri’s touch - more satisfying than flat-out rejecting him would have been.  Which Yuri had naturally considered, when they were both still clothed and Barnaby slid his knee between Yuri’s legs and breathed champagne and “Fuck me” into his ear.  It would have been easy; Barnaby is attractive, but far from irresistible.  More to the point, Yuri loathes him and everything he represents — the pandering commercialization of law enforcement, the reduction of the concept of heroism to swimsuit ads and one-liners.  Not enough to kill him, of course — he wouldn’t be able to justify it anyway — but enough to let Yuri relish the opportunity to mar him with his teeth and nails, to wipe the smirk from his face and replace it with blind need.

“What?  Nothing more to say?” Yuri asks now, keeping the lustful note out of his own voice with an effort of will.  

“Don’t — _mmn_ , flatter your _oh!_ ”

Yuri swivels his fist around Barnaby’s cock; Barnaby cries out and thrusts his hips up, then arches nearly off the bed when Yuri rakes the nails of his free hand down his chest.

Barnaby’s sounds turn to ones of protest when Yuri withdraws his hand as well, but Yuri is busy with the lubricant and hardly pays attention.  He strokes himself to full attention as he slides a slick finger inside Barnaby, then another.  Yuri drags his fingers in and out, finding and nudging the sensitive nub that makes Barnaby’s dark cock twitch.

“In me,” Barnaby moans, groping for Yuri but only grazing him; Yuri shifts away from that reaching hand, not wanting it touching his cock.  “Oh god, please, now, just— _ahh!_ ”

Yuri pushes in, groaning at the hot pressure, and grabs at Barnaby’s upper arms, his shoulders, then his hands find Barnaby’s throat as he thrusts all the way in with a wet slap.  Barnaby lets out a strangled groan and fucks back, and the sound of them smacking roughly together fills the bedroom like sarcastic applause.  Yuri clenches his jaw, breath hissing through his teeth, determined not to unravel before Barnaby even though the slide of his hips and Barnaby’s pulse hammering into his hands make him feel as though he’ll explode into flame.

Barnaby closes his teeth around his own hand to muffle his scream as he comes warm and thick over both of them.

 _I hate you,_ Yuri thinks at him, shifting his grip so that his fingers curl and dig into Barnaby’s shoulders instead.  He thrusts harder, as if he can punish him with each movement.  _You’re not special, you’re not a hero, I hate every blood-wrapped bone in your—_

Barnaby’s hands are on him, sliding over his arms and chest, fingers pinching at his nipples, then locking behind Yuri’s neck and pulling him down.  Yuri tastes blood in the kiss and can’t remember when he broke the skin — then realizes he didn’t, that Barnaby had bitten his own lip so hard it split.

Yuri snaps his hips forward one last time and his orgasm tears through him; his head goes briefly, blissfully silent, as if every thought momentarily burns down to ash.

It doesn’t last.

He doesn’t relish the thought of going home with the smell of Barnaby clinging to his skin, but he has no intention of showering in this apartment, or of lingering at all now that they’ve both gotten what they want.  

Barnaby, for his part, does not invite Yuri to do either.  He stretches and slides off the bed, maddeningly steady on his feet.  Worse, he’s recovered enough to form sentences.

“That was…decent.”  

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Brooks,” Yuri remarks, giving Barnaby a brief once-over while buttoning his shirt.  The younger man’s pale skin is riddled with scratches and bite marks, and mottled red at the base of his throat.  “You certainly begged.”

“Hmph.”  Barnaby doesn’t look nearly embarrassed enough as he brushes past Yuri, heading for the bathroom.  “I assume you know your way out.  I’ll see you when the old man breaks something important.  Probably in a few days.”

“I’ll await it with bated breath,” Yuri mutters, and heads for the door.

His scar aches and the coppery taste of Barnaby’s blood is still on his tongue.  It’s a long elevator ride down to the main floor.  


End file.
